Not Much, How 'Bout You?
by hollow-ambitions
Summary: Even heroes have the right to bleed.


**Not Much, How 'Bout You?**

Maybe it was sheer loneliness. 

            Nah, that couldn't have been it. He didn't _get lonely; he was Captain Jack Sparrow- Pirate extraordinaire! Infamous Captain of the feared Black Pearl, one of the best, if not _the_ best, ships in the Caribbean! So he couldn't have been lonely . . . Had no reason to be, really. He had the sea laid before him, a fairly decent crew, his freedom and, most importantly, a lot of rum. . . What was left that anyone could possibly ever need or want? He sighed and took a long swig of rum, staring out over the sparkling ocean from his usual place behind the wheel of his freedom. He knew what was missing, just didn't want to admit it to himself. _

_Hello, yeah, it's been awhile_

_Not much, how 'bout you?_

_I'm not sure why I called-_

_I guess I really just wanted to talk to you _

            _People learn from their mistakes_, Jack thought to himself, rolling his eyes as he took another long swig. Yeah, sure they do. After the whole incident with Bootstrap, he had sworn on pain of death that he'd never get close to anyone again. Never. Never again would he be forced to endure the heartache that came with losing that person, that feeling of emptiness that forever lingered in his heart and his mind. No, he had sworn, never again.

He had befriended his son, and he was feeling pain that could only be described as a slow death.

_And I was thinking maybe later on _

_We could get together for a while_

_It's been such a long time _

_And I really do miss your smile_

_            I wonder what the lad and his bonnie lass are doing_, he thought to himself, smirking as he twirled the bottle of rum around thoughtfully in his right hand, the left resting protectively on the large wooden wheel. _Can't be nothin' too exciting, what with him bein' a eunuch and all. _He laughed silently to himself, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. It faded away just as quickly as it had appeared, though, when no other laughter joined his. Jack sighed and looked out over the ocean again, looking through it more than he was _at_ it. He had been alone all of his life basically, and it had never bothered him before, just figured that that was his place. But now it did day and night, night and day. . . He longed for his friends comforting smiles; the reassurance that they were indeed _still_ his friends, and _still_ alive. 

_I'm not talking 'bout movin' in _

_And I don't want to change your life_

_But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars around_

_And I'd really love to see you tonight_

Why. That's one word he hated, had _always hated. He struggled with why everyday. . . Why did Bootstrap have to die?. . . Why hadn't Will joined his crew?. . . Why hadn't Elizabeth?. . . Why hadn't he stayed in Port Royal?. . . Why. . . Why- _Why_ was he out of rum? Jack sighed at the empty bottle and made a disgusted face with the person staring back at him. That person was weak, a nobody who was wasting his time by missing people who, for all he knew, didn't give a damn about him anymore. Angrily, he threw the bottle down onto the deck; smashing it into a million jaded pieces that flew in every which way before finally coming to a halt. He stared at those pieces until they became blurry._

_We could go walking through a windy park_

_Or take a drive along the beach_

_Or stay at home and watch TV-_

_You see it really doesn't matter much to me _

_I'm not talking 'bout movin' in_

_And I don't want to change your life_

_But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars around_

_And I'd really love to see you tonight_

"Anamaria? Take charge o' 'er, I'm goin' to my cabin," he called over his shoulder, not even bothering to wait for a response. Upon getting there he hurriedly shut the door and sighed shakily, daring himself to cry, to shed even _one little lonesome tear. He had cried enough when he found out that Barbossa had killed Bootstrap, and he'd never do it again. It was weak of him, extremely weak of him, and he wouldn't be caught playing the fool once more. He crossed his arms and walked drunkenly over to the small window in his cabin, settling down on a chair that was next to it and watched the night sky and the sparkling sea dance together._

This time, he didn't stop the tears that fell. Nor did he curse them. He relished in them.

_I won't ask for promises_

_So you don't have to lie_

_We've both played that game before-_

_Say I love you then say goodbye_

_            Look at what you two have me doin'_, he thought to himself, smiling slightly. "You two have me cryin'. . . And _no one makes Captain Jack Sparrow cry without me seekin' out revenge. . . So ye'll be seein' me soon, savvy?" Jack sheepishly wiped away the remnants of tears, smirking out at the ocean in his characteristic gold toothed way. _

            "Aye," he said softly to himself, "ye'll be seein' me soon." 

_I'm not talking 'bout movin' in_

_And I don't want to change your life_

_But there's a warm wind blowin' the stars around_

_And I'd really love to see you tonight_

**The End**

**//AN: This is my second PotC story, and I think I did an okay job. . . maybe. Hopefully. Kind of. Shrug. Oh well. Please R/R and let me know what you guys think!! Oh, and I don't own PotC nor Jack Sparrow. . . Sigh. Sad, ain't it? :(\\**

**Song: "I'd Really Love To See You Tonight"- ****England**** Dan and Jon Ford Coley ©**

            __


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